


Snow

by MooseFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Snowball Fight, fallen!cas, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loved the winter, snow and ice</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

Winter snuck up on Castiel like all seasons snuck up on him- like all change was a surprise.

He woke up one morning in the room he shared with Dean and stretched and noticed the shock of cool sheets where they had not been lain on for a while. The wooden floor was cold beneath his feet, and the air was cold against his bare chest.

He shrugged into a sweater he had been given- it was Dean’s and while tight on Dean it was loose on Castiel. The knit surface was soft and warm against his cold skin.

He clambered downstairs in the grey morning light and poured himself a huge cup of coffee.

No one could have anticipated the extent of Cas’s caffeine addiction- in fact it was often the only thing that could rouse him from bed. Before his morning cup- or two or three or four- he was dark and irritable, but once the coffee was warm in his grasp, he could begin to make sense of the world.

He sat there in the cool kitchen for about ten minutes when it registered that the time was nearly ten and the house was completely, utterly quiet.

Cas got up from his chair, still clutching his coffee, and peered about the house.

Dean’s room was empty.

Sam’s room was empty.

Cas stood in the stairwell, frowning, when a huge _THUMP_ interrupted the silence.

He put his coffee down on a side table as he dashed to his room to retrieve a weapon, any weapon and was running down the stairs pocket knife in hand when he heard, “Cas! Cas!”

He came all the way down and looked out of the window and Dean had his face pressed against the glass, smiling hugely. “It snowed, Cas! It snowed! Come outside!”

Castiel put down the knife and stepped out of the front door.

It crunched, cold and wet underfoot, stinging a little.

Dean and Sam were both extensively bundled up, hats and scarves and jackets and coats and mittens, and Dean looked at Cas, smiling beatifically. “Come on,” he said, “Get dressed, I need you in the snowball fight, okay?”

Something cold and wet barreled through the air and into his face. It knocked Castiel off of his feet.

“Hey!” Dean shouted. “No fair!”

He rushed over to Cas, who fought through new and blinding pain to find that his nose was bleeding. “Dean,” he calmly said, “I’m injured.”

“Sam, you dick!” Dean shouted as he pulled Castiel up and dragged him into the house.

Castiel sat on the kitchen table, at eye level with Dean. Dean looked so concerned as he wiped away the blood and put a tissue up against Castiel's face to staunch the flow that Castiel did not think to tell him he could take care of this himself. That he was thousands of years old, that he understood how to handle injuries, and that while he was essentially human now, he was not utterly inept. Usually, he pushed him away and licked his wounds himself. 

It was nice, though, as he shivered in the kitchen, to let Dean fuss over him this once. 

The fall in the snow had made his clothes wet, and so he tugged off the sweater. His skin was cold and sensitive, and the house drafty, and as Dean dabbed, he found himself leaning in closer and closer and closer until his forehead was resting against Dean’s.

They looked at each other, cross eyed from closeness. Even paled from winter, Dean was extensively freckled and Castiel smiled as he thought of the constellations they resembled.

Dean leaned under slightly and kissed him, soft and warm and so sweet. So impossibly sweet.

“Your lips are blue,” he chuckled.

Dean shrugged out of his coat and pulled off another sweater. He yanked it over Castiel’s head.

It was still warm with his heat and rich with his smell, and Castiel sighed as Dean pulled him into his arms, holding him tight, pushing away the cold.

Castiel decided he liked snow.


End file.
